The Wolf and the Dragon
by Schulyr
Summary: When pre/mis-conceptions shatter great friendships can bloom. Possible future HP/DM slash, currently only friendship. Rating may change as story progresses.
1. Author's Forward

**AUTHOR'S FORWARD**

**May 26, 2002******

            First of all I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THE CHARACTERS. This is going to be the only time I actually say this but it applies to all the chapters in my story. I find that disclaimer's and author notes really disrupt the flow of the story so…. I'm not going to have them. For now I'm going to say everything I need to here. If at a later date I have more things to say I'll tag an extra chapter onto the end. I've done a ton of reading (HP fanfic) and therefore there is a chance that an idea someone else had could pop in my story. This is because my muse likes to snatch up ideas and manipulate them. The only problem is that I've read so much that I have no idea where all the ideas have come from. So if you see something that you recognize as your own please let me know and I'll be more than happy to accredit it to you. I'm going to try to have a day of the week which I update this each week, I'm not sure what day yet. Most Saturdays are spent reading Midnight   
Blue's update to The Mirror of Maybe (an amazing story that though it has HP/SS slash it uses a form time travel to deal with the age difference so its not gross). One more thing, I am currently without a beta (I apologize for any errors in the first chapter) so if there is anyone who is willing to be my beta, I shall be in your debt, please email me at schulyr@hotmail.com or just leave it in review. And please please review, though will still post if you don't, it just really makes my day when I see those numbers go up. Thanks for reading.

Luvs…Schulyr


	2. And So It Begins

**THE WOLF AND THE DRAGON**

Chapter One

_And So It Begins_

After returning from his fourth, and by far worst, year at Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry Harry quickly realized that the Dursleys were still angry about the prank the Weasley twins had played on their precious Duddleykins the year before. His trunk had been placed down into the cellar under lock and key the second he stepped inside the front door, and his owl Hedwig had been taken to the vet where her wings were clipped so she would not be able to deliver any messages that same day. His window had been fitted with new steel bars that were close enough together that not even the Weasley's miniature owl Pig could have fit through them. Each morning he was woken up by his Aunt Petunia screeching and pounding on the door to his small bedroom. Harry would then go downstairs and prepare breakfasts consisting of eggs, bacon, sausages, and toast for his relations. His cousin Dudley was no longer following the diet implemented by his school Smeltings but it had been decided that Harry would be kept on the diet, so he received one slice of plain toast for breakfast each day. After the table had been cleared and the dishes washed Harry would then go out and work on his Aunt Petunia's garden. Harry was outdoors for the entire day and in the hot summer heat his skin was soon burnt. Harry was quite glad when after a week his skin faded from the brilliant red colour, which his cousin Dudley found so amusing to poke at, down to dark brown. A colour which would have made him looks like healthy young boy, if you hadn't been able to count his ribs from across the yard. For lunch and dinner he was given something called a protein shake which was said to have all the necessary nutrients. When the sun went down Harry would pack his tools away in the shed at the back of the yard and go inside. After a quick shower he would brush his teeth and then go to his bedroom. Each day while he was in the garden he searched for small animals he could feed to Hedwig and while she ate he would apologize for bringing her into this mess and promised that he would get someone to fix her wings as soon as the got back to Hogwarts. Hedwig would hoot affectionately and nibble on his ear, she knew it wasn't his fault and could tell he was no better off than herself. She stayed by his side as he lay wide eyed staring at the ceiling, softly reciting all the spells, charms, and potions that he had learned in his four years at Hogwarts to keep himself awake. To sleep meant to dream, to dream of Voldemort. He didn't need the Daily Prophet to tell him what horrors were going on in the wizarding world; he saw it all each night first hand. So he lived quietly and obediently obeying all of the Dursleys' commands.

            It was all typical Dursley behaviour and Harry wasn't worried. That is it was all typical Dursley behaviour until Dudley's bacon turned out a bit crispier than the boy liked one morning two weeks after Harry had returned. Dudley grabbed his smelting stick from its spot in the corner of the room and started raining blows down on Harry's back. Harry yelled and then fell to floor under the force of the bamboo shaft; his thin shirt ripped and soon became bloody. Harry looked to his uncle with pained eyes and gasped between blows "my godfather…" It had been the wrong thing to say.

Vernon went purple with rage, "Your Godfather? YOUR GODFATHER?!" he yelled "Even if he does exist how will he know anything's going on? It's not like you can send him any letters can you, personally though I believe you lied about the whole thing." Vernon smirked when he referenced Hedwig's inability to fly; he knew the boy was close to the bird as it was the first birthday present he could remember. Then he did something that Harry hadn't expected he joined Dudley in his continued beating of the fragile boy. Vernon kicked and punched him in his chest and sides when he tried to move away from the steel toed boots or bamboo shaft. He even showed his son how to wield the stick so to hurt the boy more. When they finished Harry was barely conscious, the darkness crept into his vision from the sides as he crawled up the stairs to his bare room. Hedwig hooted softly as her master collapsed on the bed and for the first time fell asleep without dreaming. Harry did not move again that day or the next one either. 

Two days later he pulled himself from the thin mattress his entire body stiff and screaming in pain from the beating. He pulled on fresh clothes, the ones he had been wearing were caked in blood. He hadn't received any new clothing from the Dursleys this year since the Smeltings diet had prevented Dudley from getting any wider. Therefore the clothes were not only ten sizes to large they also were worn out in a number of places. As he hobbled down the stairs he tried to think of ways to get in contact with somebody who would help him, but even if he could send out a letter there wasn't anybody who he could send it to. Dumbledore would just tell him he would be safer there since there was no way Voldemort could get him, Remus and Sirius were busy on official anti-Voldemort business, Hermione was off in Bulgaria visiting Krum, and the Weasleys. Harry didn't even want to think about them. Sure, Mrs. Weasley had sat by his side in the hospital wing when he was still at Hogwarts but he knew it was only because she felt society required it of her. Somebody had to be a mother to the boy-who-lived and who better than the woman with the most experience, the woman with seven of her own. No one really cared about him, he was nothing more than a tool to Dumbledore, the embodiment of a dead friend to Sirius and Remus, and the boy-who-lived to the Weasleys and Hermione. It was the things he represented that mattered to them, not who he actually was, and now that he had ruined his prefect image by causing the death of one of his classmates they no longer wanted anything to do with him. He really couldn't blame them either. Harry knew it was his fault the dark lord had risen again, if he hadn't prevented Sirius and Remus from killing Peter Pettigrew then the little rat would have never been able to get back to his master and help him back to power. Through the same token he was also responsible for the death of the witch from the ministry, and the old man at the Riddle house. Also because he hadn't realised that the reason Bartemus Crouch had appeared on the marauder's map was because it was Bartemus Crouch Junior using the polyjuice potion to disguise himself as Mad-eye Moody.

It took him longer than usual to prepare the Durselys' breakfast, he could barely move his left arm before the pain grew too great to bare, his right eye was almost swollen shut and he was pretty sure one of his ribs was broken. Whenever he started to feel angry towards the Dursleys' for doing this to him or Dumbledore for sending him to them he remembered that because of him four people were dead, four people that would never again sit around the breakfast table with their loved ones and because of this Harry went on cooking breakfast as he had every morning during every summer for the past four years. When the rest of the family came down no mention was made of the fact that Harry hadn't gotten out of bed the day before or what had happened the day before. Harry ate his usual single slice of toast, cleared off the table, washed the dishes, and eventually went outside to work in the garden.

Once outside Harry worked as hard as he was able in the garden, the weeding and the trimming and all the small things he did to make the garden beautiful kept his mind off the tournament and his nightly tournament. In his mind the garden was no longer his Aunt's garden, it was his. He knew every flower, every bush, every leaf; he spoke to them and learned their secrets. He made sure to treat them with respect he gave them all his loving touch. He would concentrate on his power while he worked with them, he would imagine it flowing into them and with it they all bloomed and were vibrant with life. Today instead of feeding life and power into them they fed it into him. They gave him the strength to stay strong; while he quietly removed the weeds from the earth surrounding them some of the golden power he had given them slowly seeped back into him. He sat there working away oblivious to the world around him, oblivious to the gnawing hunger in his stomach, and the pain that filled his body. It didn't matter if he was hungry or in pain, because it wasn't like he really mattered or like he would likely live to see September. If the Dursleys' didn't do it first, he would probably kill himself just to relieve every from worrying about him.

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Draco watched as his aunt cleaned up the dishes from breakfast, she didn't have any house elves so she had to do the work herself. His aunt lived in the middle of a muggle town called Little Whinging and he normally didn't spend anytime with her, his father believed her to be a bad influence, being around muggles so much must have corrupted her. His father had been mysteriously absent since the beginning of summer and his mother did not want him to spend the weekend alone in manor while she went to the witch's spa, so Draco was sent to Aunt Harriet's. Draco didn't mind though, he actually liked his Aunt Harriet. Her house was small but it was a lot friendlier than the manor where he'd grown up. It was kind of like Hogwarts, the school felt like home to him, like there was nothing in the world that could harm him there and whenever he left whether it was for the summer hols or just for Christmas that it would be waiting there for him with open arms for him when he finally returned. Her house was kind of like that, though definitely not to the extent Hogwarts was. He missed school though so far the summer was shaping up to be his best one yet. His father had only been home on the first night of Draco's return, and though he hadn't been able to get out of bed the next day from the punishment he had received for letting Hermione Granger get better marks than him, since then he hadn't even caught a glimpse of his father.

It wasn't like he didn't know where his father was, he knew his father was death eater. Since the day he was born his father stressed the importance of being pureblood and being ready to serve the Dark Lord. His father had always been sure that some day his master would return and would praise him for turning his son into such a loyal servant. What Luscius hadn't counted on was his son's independent thinking. Draco liked the world as it was he didn't want it to become over run with dark magic. Also, he didn't really mind most muggle borns either, he thought it was pretty cool how even though all odds were against them being wizards they ended up at Hogwarts. Of course there were some muggle borns, namely Granger, that he couldn't stand, but that was because she was bossy know-it-all not because she was muggle born.

When Dumbledore had announced that the Dark Lord had arisen the worlds of each and every Slytherin had crashed around them. They had all believed that they were safe from his grasp; he was dead, Harry Potter had destroyed him when they were all babies. There parents had all spoken of the day when they would show their loyalty to their master, but none of them had thought that day would ever come. Honestly, they had all hoped and prayed that it would never come. It was necessary for them to put up the façade of loyalty towards the Dark Lord, otherwise the news would get back to their parents and then they would be punished, and to be punished by a death eater was no small thing. Each and everyone of them had fine tuned their torturing skills during Voldemort's reign. They revelled in the pain and suffering of others, and with the fall of their master they no longer had an outside outlet for their abusive nature. 

Draco could still remember the first time his father used the cructicious curse on him; he had been seven years old and had broken one of his father's magical artefacts. When Luscius had gotten home that evening Draco had been called into his father's study and told that he was old enough to properly punished for his actions. He had passed out not two seconds after his father had cast the curse. All of his housemates had similar stories, though it was well known within their group that Luscius Malfoy used the curse far more than any other man and that he always used it at full force. That was why Draco was so much smaller than the other boys. That was why Greg and Vince were so protective of him. He couldn't understand why Potter was just as small. The boy was loved and befriended by every single witch and wizard, that hadn't served Voldemort, and had a muggle family that loved and pampered him. Draco's brow furrowed in confusion, why in Merlin's name was he thing about Potter of all people?

Draco shook his head in order to clear it and concentrated on the heaviness that he had been feeling for the past two days. It had hit him like a lead weight during breakfast two days ago and hadn't lessened in the slightest since then. He couldn't explain it; it was simply a feeling of wrongness mixed with pain and desperation. This morning there had been a pinch of anger as well but each time it appeared it quickly disappeared. Now though, everything was being replaced by a feeling of utter hopelessness. Draco felt like a part of him was being torn away with vicious force. He couldn't stand it anymore; he had to get of the house. He had to do something; he just couldn't let it continue on full force any longer. "Aunt Harriet?"

"Yes Draco?"

"Is it okay if I go out for a walk?"

"Of course. Just make sure you wear muggle clothes, don't want the neighbours asking questions now do we? And be careful you don't get lost."

"I will, don't worry." Draco stepped out of the house making note of the number and street name, just in case. He didn't have any real destination in mind, he just walked. Soon, he found himself on a street where each house looked the same as the next. He didn't get why muggles would want to live in a house with no individuality. Wizard homes were very different from each other; no two were quite the same. Each one reflected the owner's personality, so each one was incredibly unique. Looking at the houses there was one in particular that drew his attention, even though it looked just like every other house on the street. It had same low brick wall surrounding it, the same bay window, and the same blue door, but there was just something about it that drew him to it.

He walked up the empty driveway and peered in through the large window. The house was empty other than the normal things one would find in a muggle home. He could see pictures of what he presumed to be the only child in the household, though the boy was the size of at least three Greggorys. For a moment he was tempted to walk back down the driveway and return to his Aunts. Obviously the house belonged to an ordinary muggle family, and he was probably just worried about the punishment he would receive when his father found out where he had spent the weekend. That same something that had drawn him to the house kept him there though. The weight inside him seemed to be preventing him from leaving the small yard. Then he felt it pulling him around to the back of the house. When he rounded the corner at first all he saw was beautiful flowers in full bloom everywhere, then he saw a figure hunched over in one corner of the garden. The figure's clothing was at least ten sizes too large for its fragile figure, and the back of the shirt was covered in criss-crossing lines of blood wherever it touched the person's skin. Draco was shocked. He had never thought that muggles capable of hurting someone so badly. This was worse than the cructiacous curse, for at least the effects wore off a few hours after it was lifted. Draco could tell by the colouring of the bruises at the wounds had been inflicted a couple of days ago, even though most of them were just starting to heal. His eyes drifted up to the figure's head and matted yet unruly black hair. He choked on his own breath; no, it couldn't be, not him. His family loved him, pampered him, and treated him like royalty. They didn't do that; surely Dumbledore wouldn't have sent him to people like that. Draco walked towards the other boy and knelt down beside him gently laying a hand on his arm. Harry's body tensed at the contact and his terrified green eyes flew to lock onto concerned grey ones. 

"It's okay, you're safe for now." Draco whispered. Harry's body relaxed and his eyes shied away in embarrassment. Draco gently pulled the raven haired boy into his arms, just like his mother had to him when he was little.

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As the silver haired boy pulled him to his arms Harry buried his face into his neck. Draco's thick scent filled him, obliterating the emptiness that had been there moments ago. Somebody cared, somebody who by all rights should be rejoicing in his misery. Instead he was comforting him, holding him; Harry could almost believe that everything was going to be okay from then on. Though he understood that eventually Draco would have to leave, the fact that instead of giving him up to Voldemort in this weakened state he was helping him meant the world to Harry.

_The boys sat there for some time, Draco simply holding Harry. When they heard the Dursleys' car pull into the lane Draco quickly hid behind a bush until they were inside. He then snuck away, though first making a note of the steel bars covering what was most assuredly Harry's window. He knew that though no owl could fit through those bars the young falcon he had been given for his birthday would. No words had been spoken beyond the whispered assurances Draco had given when he first arrived, and none had been needed. The boys had found safety in each other._


End file.
